


rug burns

by Catsby



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Come Eating, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Facials, Floor Sex, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Nipple Play, Roommates, Secret Crush, Titty-fucking, excessive use of the word tits, light spit kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsby/pseuds/Catsby
Summary: But Mark has a secret.It might be fucked, but he has a slight obsession with his best friend’s tits.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 31
Kudos: 503





	rug burns

Mark has a secret.

“You got a girlfriend yet?”

He tries to laugh, but what comes out sounds more like a dying goose, a strained wheeze. He grips his controller a little tighter and keeps his eyes firmly focused on his Kart racing around the colorful track on the television, not looking away even as he spots Johnny glancing towards him in his peripheral.

“N-No,” he manages, then clears his throat to try again in a more sturdy voice, “No, uh, not yet.”

Johnny hums beside him, leans back deeper into the cushions. He’s got his controller resting on his lap, lazily pressing the buttons and fiddling with the joycons. He’s always so smooth about it when they play. Not quite cocky, just _confident,_ so cool-headed while Mark is constantly at the edge of the seat and bouncing his leg like a livewire.

“Why not?”

“Uh, I dunno, man,” Mark huffs back, another attempt to laugh through the anxiety in his throat. “It’s just—I guess I just haven’t found the right one or something.”

Again, Johnny just hums back.

On his half of the screen, he zooms across the finish line, and Mark has to watch Princess Peach celebrate out of the corner of his eye until his Yoshi meets her in victory. Letting out a heavy sigh, he lets himself lean back against the couch, and he can feel his cheeks warm when his shoulder brushes Johnny’s very naked bicep.

For just a second, while Johnny goes about clicking through the menus and getting their next race set up, Mark hazards a glance his way—specifically, at his bare torso.

He only got out of the shower just a few minutes before they sat down to play, and he didn’t even bother to put on a shirt before flopping down beside Mark and snatching the extra controller from his stunned hands.

And why should he?

They’re home, alone together in their little apartment, safe from prying eyes. Johnny’s never been the type to be exactly _shy_ anyway, especially since he started working out regularly in the past year. He doesn’t mind showing skin in public, doesn’t care about wearing a shirt when he runs laps around the football field, doesn’t care if anyone sneaks a peek at his stomach when he takes off his hoodie in class, doesn’t care even about walking around the locker room totally naked, not a fucking towel in sight.

Especially here at home, he doesn’t care at all, and again, why should he? As far as he knows, behind these walls, there’s no one looking.

But Mark has a secret.

He feels his mouth go dry as his eyes follow an errant water droplet roll down the side of Johnny’s neck from his still damp hair. It falls, falls, falls, leaving a shiny trail over his collarbone until at last it crawls over the subtle swell of his pec. It traces the delicate flower petals and tiny leaves inked a soft black on that smooth skin, like a sweet little dewdrop, and when it reaches Johnny’s tan nipple, Mark’s mouth _aches_ to lick it away.

Suddenly, Johnny reaches a hand up to wipe at the tickle on his chest, and Mark whips his gaze back to the television before he can get caught ogling, his heart pounding in his throat and his face hot.

It might be fucked, but he has a slight obsession with his best friend’s tits.

Really, this is a recent and completely new development in Mark Lee’s Feelings and Emotions for One Johnny Seo, and it all stemmed from the sunday before last, when Johnny walked into the kitchen shirtless, found Mark doing his homework at the kitchen table, and interrupted him just to show off the progress he was making on his pecs.

The second Johnny cupped his hands under his own chest and squeezed the bit of meat there, just to proudly show off that there was now enough to _grab,_ Mark knew he was fucking done for.

When he shoved his hand down his basketball shorts while in bed later that night, it was to the thought of rutting his cock in that perfect little dip between Johnny’s pecs, and honestly, it’s been that way almost every night since, because he just can’t seem to catch a break. It seems like every time he turns around—boom, tits.

He can’t believe he’s troubled over this, but he is, because when Johnny gets shirtless pretty much every time the opportunity arises, it makes it damn hard for Mark to focus on anything else.

He tried looking up videos in the hopes that maybe porn would quench his apparently unending thirst, but while it was all amazingly hot, it just never hit the same.

Because Johnny’s really got the best chest he’s ever fucking seen.

It’s really, _really_ unfair.

“Is this stage good?” Johnny asks, throwing a quick glance Mark’s way.

“Oh, uh, y-yeah, that’s perfect,” Mark stammers back, quickly forcing all his focus on the television rather than the strings of his sweatpants he’s been fiddling with for the past minute. He’s thankful for the distraction—any longer thinking about Johnny and trying desperately to not half-chub in his shorts and he swears he was gonna perish.

The game starts, and he gets in his usual position, leaning forward with his elbows on the knees, staring at the screen as his Kart buzzes around the track. He’s quickly engulfed in the world of MarioKart, all the bright lights and catchy music doing wonders to clear his mind from any worries, concerns, and terribly lewd thoughts.

Until Johnny chimes beside him, “So you still on Tinder?”

Mark can already feel his concentration slipping, and it immediately shows through his playing as he runs directly over another player’s banana peel, his Kart spinning out. The color rushes back to his cheeks, and he bites his cheek to hold back a curse.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” he answers through his teeth as casually as possible as he gets back on track.

It’s not entirely a lie, he still has an account, but he’s not technically _on_ Tinder. He’s not like Donghyuck, lying in bed and swiping for hours. Hell, he can’t even think of the last time he opened the app. But he can’t exactly say that, especially not when Johnny’s the one who suggested it to him after he lamented for an hour about being lonely that night they shared beers a few weeks back.

And _especially_ not when Johnny’s also the whole reason he’s never swiped right on a person once.

“Any luck so far?” Johnny asks, and he sounds so genuinely interested that Mark almost feels guilty for having nothing good to say. He can’t bring himself to make something up, though. Johnny would know if he’d gone on any dates anyway, since he tells him literally _everything._

“Not really, man,” he answers, trying to seem at least a little disappointed. “I haven’t really even landed any matches.”

Johnny scoffs beside him. “A hotcake like you? People don’t know what’s good, dude.”

Mark makes another attempt to laugh, and it actually comes out better this time, sounding remarkably less strangled. Still a little choked, and he can feel his face burning, and his Kart skids completely off the track, but he clears his throat and tries to play it all off as smooth as he can manage. “Yeah, I-I guess. Maybe my bio’s weird or something, I dunno.”

“Maybe your sexy cheekbones scared ‘em off.”

And Mark can feel his blush rise even hotter to those very cheekbones as he huffs another laugh, tapping his foot anxiously faster. His thumbs mimic the movement, and he slams sideways into a wall. He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him, curious. “Y-Yeah, maybe, man, who knows.”

“Hopefully you get a date soon, dude, you’ve been fucking _tight_ recently.”

“Fuck—” The word comes out in a rush of air as Mark drives straight off the edge of the track. He nibbles at his bottom lip as he watches Lakitu lift him back onto the road for him to clumsily take off driving towards the finish line again. “I-I have?”

“Yeah,” Johnny hums beside him, his feet, crossed at the ankles, bouncing in the edge of Mark’s vision. “You’ve been, like, really fucking tense, even I can tell. You gotta get out and get off, my guy.”

Mark almost has half a mind to tell him he’s been doing that second part every damn night, but he bites his tongue. “Yeah, I—I guess you’re right.”

“‘course I’m right,” Johnny chuckles back. It’s quiet for a long minute, only the sounds of Peach cooing at this and that and Yoshi’s weird little noises filling the air. And then Johnny speaks up again, seemingly as eager to fill the silence as Mark is to let it settle, “What kind of girls do you like? Maybe I can set you up.”

And that’s a whole different fish to fry—the fact that Johnny still thinks Mark’s straight and not the raging homosexual all his closest friends know him to be. He doesn’t worry about that now, though. Coming out would be a fucking nightmare if he tried while still harboring this crush.

“Oh, uh—”

He clears his throat and calls back to all his days as a good, straight little Christian boy, trying to remember what was so appealing about girls, or what he thought was _supposed_ to be appealing about girls. What did he say when his friends asked what he liked about Suzie in home ec? Or Jessica in algebra?

“Uh, tits?”

And maybe it explains a lot about his current predicament that _that’s_ the first thing that comes to mind, but the second Johnny snorts beside him, he knows he has other things to worry about.

“I-I mean, uh, fuck, dude—” he stammers, nearly dropping his controller as he leaps to correct his frankly terrible mistake, “I-I mean, like, I like when girls have, like, uh—”

“A big heart?” Johnny coos mockingly at him, and Mark nearly combusts then and there. He goes on stumbling over his words and frantically grasping for some excuse, but Johnny laughs at him before he can get anything meaningful out. “Dude, it’s totally fine. You like tits, I get that.”

The race ends with Johnny in first place again, still laughing his ass off, and Mark DNF, his head in his hands and his controller abandoned on the floor between his feet. He feels like he’s burning alive from the inside out, his face flushed all the way to his ears, and he only gets hotter when Johnny slaps his back in an attempt to comfort.

“Bro, I swear, I get it,” Johnny chuckles. He brings his hand up to pinch fondly at Mark’s ear, his other hand busy scrolling through the menus to set up another race. “I have a question for you, though, look.”

Mark whines. It takes nearly all of his remaining power to obey, turning his head to look at Johnny still lounging back against the couch cushions, and then what little is left is dedicated to pointedly _not_ looking at his chest.

An effort which Johnny quickly and completely demolishes when he leaves his controller on his lap and brings both hands to cup his pecs, squeezing the firm flesh just like he did on that accursed sunday as he flashes puppy dog eyes at Mark.

“You like these titties too, Markie?”

And Mark completely forgets how to breathe, his jaw falling slack as he stares at Johnny’s chest, taking in how his pecs look squished under those big hands, skin pinking under his grip and tan nipples perked from sitting wet under the cool air of the ceiling fan. He looks downright fucking edible, and Mark wonders if those flower petals would taste as sweet as they look, if his chest would be soft or firm under his teeth, or how it would feel to slide his cock over his nipples, down the beautiful crevass of his chest.

“Fuck,” he mumbles without even thinking, too caught up in his rush of fantasies to remember that he’s supposed to be _straight_ with any ounce of _shame._ He just barely catches the movement of Johnny cocking an eyebrow at him before he realizes what he’s doing, that his reaction is way, _way_ out of line.

“Fuck?” Johnny echoes, his voice dropping in tone and volume, and Mark’s heartbeat picks up tenfold, threatening to burst clear out of his chest.

He turns back to the television so fast his head spins, and he bends to pick his controller back up, feigning a nervous like that might cover up the horrible mistake he just made. “Uh, s-sorry, so—so you wanna play this—”

“Mark.”

The words get caught in his throat, thick as honey, but he doesn’t look away from the television, his hands clutching his controller tight. That shame he should’ve had in the first place is creeping up his spine, making him itch to straight up run away to his room, and he just about gives until Johnny speaks again.

“Look at me.”

So he looks, and Johnny stares back, chin tucked down and eyes gleaming honey amber under long eyelashes, half-lidded and sultry. He’s looking at Mark like he wants to eat him, but before Mark can even begin to process that information, Johnny’s hand stroking down his own body is drawing his gaze along with it.

He sucks a breath through his teeth when Johnny circles his middle finger around his nipple, and again when Johnny’s other hand finds Mark’s thigh, touching his leg lightly before splaying against the side of his leg, his palm suffocatingly hot through the thin material of his basketball shorts.

“C’mere,” Johnny mumbles, hooking his fingers in the fabric of Mark’s shorts, but he doesn’t need to pull to drag Mark in. His arm slips with ease around Mark’s waist as he scoots closer, and he cracks just the slightest, prettiest smile at how Mark’s breath audibly hitches when their thighs touch. “You really like this, huh?”

Mark’s throat feels so thick, he almost chokes when he swallows. He nods and mumbles a little “yeah,” the single word coming out so low and rough, he barely even recognizes his own voice. He can’t decide if he wants to stare at Johnny’s eyes or his tits, and with the way he keeps flicking between the two, he would feel ashamed again if not for the way Johnny bites his lip at him.

“You wanna touch me, Mark?”

And the breath Mark was holding comes rushing out all at once as he whispers, “ _Yes._ Please, can I?”

Rather than answer, Johnny surges forward to catch Mark’s mouth, and Mark all but melts against him, moaning as he quickly gives way under Johnny’s licking tongue to let him in. He licks behind Mark’s teeth, and Mark feels his head spin, even more when Johnny’s hand finds his where he’s left it cramped between their bodies, pulling it up and pushing it unabashed into the cushion of his chest.

Mark makes a pleased, strangled noise against Johnny’s mouth as he cups his pec and gives a tentative squeeze just to feel how it gives under his touch, tight from months of working out but still just soft enough to squish. He squeezes again and is surprised when Johnny moans into his mouth, his big hand falling to grip Mark’s thigh.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he pulls back, gasping into the little space between their mouths as Mark drags his thumb over his nipple. “ _Fuck,_ so that’s why you’ve been fucking staring at me so much, huh?”

Mark bites his bottom lip, his cheeks going hot at the realization that he’s been long found out. Maybe he’s not as sneaky as he likes to think. He pinches Johnny’s nipple between his finger and thumb and lifts his other hand to do the same, kissing at Johnny’s mouth when he gasps again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs against Johnny’s lips and takes the bottom one gently between his teeth just to coax another desperate noise from him. He soothes the little bite with another kiss and whispers, “You always look so fucking good, dude, how could I not stare?”

Johnny arches into his touch, barely bites down another moan when Mark pinches harder at his nipples. Mark never had any idea he was so _sensitive._ “You—You could’ve just asked, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Mark answers quietly, and he moves with ease when Johnny’s hands close around his hips and pull, following their guidance to settle in a straddle across his lap as naturally as he belongs there. He leans down to press another brief kiss to his mouth and sighs softly as he leans back to let Johnny moan against his lips as he gropes his chest again. “I thought you were straight. I thought you thought _I_ was straight.”

“F-Fuck, dude,” Johnny huffs a breathless little laugh. “I _never_ thought you were straight, you’re such a fuckin’ twink, man.”

Mark cracks a little grin as Johnny tips his chin up to press his lips over his mouth again. He leans down into the kiss, mumbling back, “And you’re a fuckin’ hunk.”

He feels Johnny smile, tastes it sweet when he licks into his mouth, and he kisses him like he’s trying to eat him alive, letting a year of pent up emotions and two weeks of pent up lust guide his tongue and hands. Johnny arches under his touch again, and Mark is flooded with satisfaction, delighted at the fact that _he’s_ the one making Johnny react this way, desperate for more.

And then Johnny’s gripping his hips tighter and pulling him down to _grind_ on his lap, and any cockiness immediately melts away as he feels an undeniable bulge against his groin.

“Ho—Holy fuck,” he gasps as he pulls back from Johnny’s mouth to look down between their bodies, spreading his fingers wide over Johnny’s chest for support as he rocks down on his erection again. His eyes flick up to watch at Johnny’s face contorts in pleasure, his eyebrows pinching tight and his jaw clenching as he hisses through his teeth. “Dude, you’re so fucking hard, _fuck._ ”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been playing with my tits for the past five minutes, I dunno what else you expected,” Johnny huffs a little strained laugh back, and his voice quickly melts to a moan when Mark again grinds down against him through his sweatpants.

“Holy fuck,” Mark repeats breathlessly, moaning along as he drops and swivels his hips again. He’s really one to talk, with how he’s already tenting in his shorts too, his cock achingly hard. He can feel precum wetting the inside of the fabric, and he mentally beats himself up for not wearing briefs.

Then, Johnny slips a hand up one of the loose legs of his shorts til he finds Mark’s cock and _grips_ him tight, and Mark thinks not wearing briefs is the best damn decision of his life.

“O-Oh my god,” he nearly chokes on a moan, his hips stuttering as Johnny rubs his palm over the head of Mark’s cock and then strokes him, the slide smooth as he smears precum along his shaft. He bites his lip and whines, bucking his hips into his touch. “Oh—Oh my _god,_ J-Johnny—”

“You touch yourself like this and think about me, Mark?” Johnny murmurs, leaning in to lay sloppy kisses along Mark’s throat. He mouths at his adam’s apple, squeezes his cock tighter, and Mark’s eyes nearly roll back in his skull. “You jerk off and cum in your pants thinking about me? My tits?”

Mark’s voice cracks on a keen, throwing his head back to let Johnny suck at his throat, his hands scrambling for purchase on Johnny’s broad, solid shoulders. “H-Holy fucking shit, y-yes, _yes,_ Johnny, fuck, I—I think about—about fucking your tits every fucking night, holy shit—”

Johnny breathes a low chuckle against his skin, twisting his wrist in just the right way on every stroke that Mark can’t decide if he’s heavensent or a fucking demon. “Yeah? You wanna, babe? Wanna fuck ‘em now?”

“Holy shit,” Mark gasps for what feels like the hundredth time, “holy shit, _can I?_ ”

And next thing Mark knows, his shorts are thrown aside to god-knows-where and he’s straddling Johnny’s bare chest in the middle of the living room floor. It’s a stretch for his thighs, and he swears he’s gonna get fucking _mad_ rug burn on his knees, but holy shit if the view isn’t worth it. For a long while, he merely stares down at Johnny, captivated by the side of him laid out just for him, and Johnny has to pinch his tense thigh to bring him back to the present.

“You backing out?” Johnny asks, but he smiles like he already knows the answer, smoothing his big hand over the spot he pinched as he stares up at him with those pretty, coaxing eyes.

“No,” Mark answers on one breath, gaze flicking down to Johnny’s chest, “fuck no.”

Johnny hums back at him and slides his hands around to grope his ass, drawing a gasp from Mark’s lips as he pulls him up higher on his chest. “Fuck me then. Cum on me. Do whatever you want.”

“That’s—That’s a lot,” Mark whispers back, gaze quickly fixating on Johnny’s chest as he tentatively rubs his cock against him. The glide is smooth against his skin with how much he’s leaking, and he bites his cheek, bringing a hand to press down gently on his cock, guiding it to slide along the dip between Johnny’s pecs as he rolls his hips again. “ _Fuck,_ dude, I wanna do so fucking much with you.”

He sees just in the top of his vision the way Johnny smiles, clearly looking down at Mark’s dick as well. “Yeah? Well, I’m all yours, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Fuck,” Mark curses breathlessly, and then again when Johnny lifts his arms to bend at the elbows, flexing his biceps, and pushes in slightly towards the center of his body, just enough to press his pecs together under Mark’s cock. “ _Fuck,_ dude, it really looks like cleavage, shit.”

“Yeah,” Johnny chuckles at him, “guys have cleavage too, Mark. I mean, you’ve seen Hoseok, right? And Hyunwoo? Big tits on those guys.”

“Yeah, but they don’t even compare to you, dude,” Mark answers without missing a beat. He sucks in a little breath as he presses the heel of his palm down on the head of his cock, guiding it to smear precum over the flowers adorning Johnny’s skin. “You’ve got the best fucking tits ever, man.”

Again, he catches just the smallest glance of Johnny’s smile in the edge of his vision. “You sure you’re not just super fuckin’ biased?”

He swallows thickly and finally lets his gaze flick up to meet Johnny’s, his heart leaping into his throat when he recognizes the gleam in his eyes as fondness. It’s a look Johnny’s given him countless times, but to see it in this context is making him question it all, making him wonder if maybe in all his urgency to not be found out, what if he overlooked something just as important?

“Yeah,” he answers softly, “maybe I am.”

Johnny bites his bottom lip to contain a grin. He drops his gaze again and arches up under Mark’s cock, coaxing him to keep going, humming as he watches Mark’s cock slide against his pecs. “Yeah, keeping going, baby. I want you to cum on my face.”

Mark sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales it all on a groan, the mere idea pushing him along to thrust faster into the narrow space between his palm and Johnny’s chest. “Holy _shit,_ dude.”

“Hold on,” Johnny mumbles, stopping him with a hand on his hip. He props himself up on his elbow just enough to bring his other hand up and spit into the cup of his palm.

“Oh, fuck,” Mark mumbles, watching as Johnny smears his own spit along the center of his chest, til his skin glistens with a sheen of filthy wet under the LED ceiling lights. He rubs the last bit off on Mark’s cock with a few quick strokes, apparently just to hear Mark choke on air, as he grins like the cat who caught the canary before pulling his fist back and plopping back down flat on the floor.

“Now, c’mon, do it again,” Johnny orders, folding his arms back up to press his pecs together like before, and Mark is eager to obey, moaning flagrantly at how slick his skin feels under his cock.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” he huffs out on a sharp breath, picking up the pace as he feels that knotted heat beginning to rise in his belly with each thrust. “Fuck, dude, I—I didn’t know you were so—”

“Dirty?” Johnny finishes for him with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so fucking dirty, dude.”

Johnny’s moan sounds like heaven. He arches his back, presses his pecs together tighter, and looks down to watch as Mark’s cock slips between his hand on his chest. “Do it again, Mark, call me dirty again.”

“Shit,” Mark curses through his teeth, fucking against Johnny’s chest faster. “Shit, baby, you’re fuckin’ _dirty,_ you’re so—fuckin’ laid out on the fuckin’ _floor_ for me, baby, letting me fuck your tits like—like a whore—”

The words slip out like he’s drunk and can’t control his tongue, and a little voice in the back of his mind tells him for a split second that maybe that’s too much, but then Johnny moans again, louder, and he _knows_ he’s doing something right.

“God, you—you fuckin’ like that, huh?” Mark goes on, the words coming out clumsy, slightly slurred. He thrusts faster, wet sounds filling the air under the MarioKart menu music, and Johnny whines a desperate and broken noise below him, so deep it rumbles in his chest, his bottom lip pinned between pretty white teeth. “ _Fuck,_ and you want me to cum on your face, yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ —”

“Yeah,” Mark huffs, pressing down to squeeze his cock tighter between Johnny’s chest and his palm, “god, you’re so—such a dumb little fuckin’ whore.”

Johnny’s moan cracks as he throws his head back against the floor with a muted thump through the carpet. “Oh my god, Mark, _yes._ ”

“Fuck,” Mark hisses through his teeth and groans as he ruts his cock faster between those tight muscles, his thrusts getting more frantic, sloppier as he feels his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck, _fuck,_ babe, I—I’m gonna cum, holy shit—”

“Mark, I swear to fucking god if you don’t cum on me—”

Mark shuts him up by scooting higher on his body, shoving his arms out of the way as he goes til he can slap the head of his cock against Johnny’s mouth. He bites his lip at the way Johnny immediately moans and lets his arms drop to the sides, hiked high with Mark’s knees directly under his armpits. It must be uncomfortable, but Johnny looks so blissed out under his cock that Mark doesn’t even think twice.

He strokes himself quickly, frantically, muttering every curse under the sun as he watches Johnny’s expression—his half-lidded eyes, cheeks colored with a high flush, soft lips parted wet and shiny under the head of Mark’s cock. He looks like a fucking masterpiece—the sort that’s sought after for centuries, treasured deeply when found, and hung in museums with tens of guards and so many signs saying “DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH.”

And something dark and sick inside Mark’s stomach can’t wait to ruin him.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” he warns on a groan, jerking his hips to rut again Johnny’s face, the head of his cock slipping over his lips and jutting against the underside of Johnny’s nose. “Fuck, gonna cum on you—”

“Not—Not in my nose,” Johnny huffs a little laugh and brings a hand up to swat Mark’s away, taking its place and stroking him quickly, so fast and desperate that Mark chokes on his breath. Johnny aims his cock just where he wants him and lets his eyes close and his mouth fall open, waiting patiently to be cum on, and that’s exactly what pushes Mark over the edge.

He throws his head back with a loud moan and fucks frantically into Johnny’s fist as he cums harder than he ever has in his life. It’s so much that his head spins and he sees static in his vision as he stares into the middle distance of the ceiling, gasping and keening as he paints Johnny’s face with thick white streaks, Johnny stroking him through it the whole time.

It doesn’t take long for overstimulation to prickle into his senses, and he hisses, hips jerking, when Johnny swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the sticky cum clinging there. “H-Ho—Hold on—”

He looks down, reaching for Johnny’s wrist, but pauses with a small gasp when he sees the mess he’s made of him. Mark knows he usually cums a lot, but holy _shit,_ that’s a lot.

It’s streaked across Johnny’s face, dripping over his lips and on his tongue, over his nose and in his nostril, despite his best efforts. He can only open one eye, the other shut under a stripe of cum, hanging thick on his long eyelashes and clumping them together. Some even got in his bangs, sticking the strands to his forehead. He looks straight out of a porno, and Mark knows this image won’t leave him for a _long_ fucking time.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers breathlessly and pulls back, scooting his knees along the carpet til he’s straddling Johnny’s hips instead and he can lean down to lick at the cum dirtying his face.

He drags his tongue up Johnny’s cheek, cleaning up his own mess, and he hears Johnny’s startled gasp, feels his hands grip at his shoulders, when he carefully licks over his closed eye, his eyelashes tickling his tongue. He leans down to kiss his cum into Johnny’s mouth, and Johnny takes it with a moan, letting Mark lick behind his teeth and keeping his mouth open for him to spit the rest into when he leans back.

“Fuck,” Mark whispers as he looks over his remaining mess on Johnny’s face. For a half a second, he merely stares, and then he starts to lean back down for another lick, only to be stopped by a big hand catching his face.

“Hold—Hold on, babe,” Johnny laughs below him. He chuckles at how Mark pouts when he leans back and comforts him by cupping his face, pulling him down for one more quick, cum-flavored kiss. “I appreciate it, but, like, a wet rag would work way better and I wanna get it off before it dries. Getting fucked with dried cum on your face is not very fun.”

Mark’s face flushes with the realization and, oh, Johnny wants _more,_ and he nods quickly. “O-Oh, right, uh, h-hold on—”

He starts to pull away, but Johnny catches him once more just to pull him down for another sweet kiss, and Mark can’t keep from grinning as he leans back again, emotion welling in his chest. He flicks his tongue over his top lip to lick away his own cum from Johnny’s mouth and then stands up, tossing a little “I’ll be right back!” over his shoulder before hurrying off to the kitchen, already figuring in his brain as he goes which rags are the softest and which Johnny wouldn’t have a fit about using to wipe up sex stuff.

When he comes back with the softest rag in the kitchen in his hand, dampened with warm water, Johnny greets him with a big grin, arms folded under his head.

Mark smiles back and makes himself very comfortably at home atop Johnny’s hips, lifting the rag to gently wipe away his cum and spit from Johnny’s face. He chuckles at how Johnny closes his eyes at the soft touch and how he feels his body relax beneath him, seeming thoroughly soothed.

An almost peaceful silence settles between them, save for the MarioKart music still ringing through the background, a catchy tune that’s probably gonna be like a pavlovian response to Mark from now on. He swears, if he ever pops a boner while playing MarioKart with Donghyuck—

“You really weren’t that slick, you know,” Johnny comments suddenly, voice soft. He cracks an eye open to peer at Mark and smiles at his surprised expression.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, almost hesitantly. His gaze drops to Johnny’s chest, still smeared sticky and starting to dry tacky with precum and spit, and he goes there next once he’s done with his face, wiping up the mess. “It felt pretty slick to me…”

Johnny huffs a little laugh at him. He brings his hands down to smooth over Mark’s thighs, and he smiles. “I mean your crush, Mark.”

Just like that, Mark’s heart is in his throat again.

“O-Oh,” he mumbles and cuts his eyes at Johnny, looking at him bashfully through long eyelashes and cracking a tiny, sheepish smile. “I wasn’t?”

“Not even a little,” Johnny hums back, tone fond and hands gentle as he slides them up to rest on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles into his skin. “Remember that time you stole my hoodie?”

Mark chokes and nearly drops the rag, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I-I _borrowed_ it! I asked you, and you said yes!”

Johnny stares straight back at him with a small, thoroughly amused smirk. “You broke into my room while I was asleep, asked me a question, which I can only assume I _mumbled_ back to, and then _stole_ my favorite hoodie and kept it for a _week._ ”

For half a second, Mark is stunned completely silent, jaw slack at the fact that he just got totally and completely found out, and Johnny bursts out laughing at him, smacking his hips fondly.

“It’s fine, baby, but like I said, not fucking slick.”

Mark purses his lips. “Friends borrow friends’ clothes all the time, dude.”

“Yeah, but you wanna be boyfriends, right?”

And Mark draws a small breath at that question, at that word in specific. He’s daydreamed about this for nearly a year, and now it’s finally happening, as he’s half naked and straddling Johnny’s hips in the middle of the living room floor, his thighs aching and his knees stinging with carpet burn.

He nods, and Johnny smiles.

“Me too,” Johnny tells him softly, and he reaches up to grab Mark’s face and pull him down for another kiss. It’s just as sweet as any of the other, slow and sloppy, Johnny’s tongue hooking behind Mark’s teeth in just the right way to have him whining.

Then, a hand slips down between their bodies and grips his cock, and Mark jerks back with a sharp gasp, flashing Johnny a stunned, wide-eyed look.

“Think you can get it up again?” Johnny asks as he slowly strokes Mark’s soft shaft, still a bit slick with cum. He chuckles when Mark quickly nods again with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Good. Now, fuck my brains out just like you’ve always wanted, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> i straight up got possessed and wrote this shit in one sitting and i barely proofread so i apologize for any typos but holy shit im so happy w it. its filthy and i love it and i hope everyone else loves it too :D
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/longerassride) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


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